


A Last Farewell

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: As the old Wittelsbacher Palais is demolished, Bavaria reflects on the past of the building. He comes to terms with the way the Nazi past changed his city, and the lingering shadow that it casts.
Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701136
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	A Last Farewell

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】送别](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432658) by [dort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dort/pseuds/dort)



There was a crack as the explosives in the base of the building went off. Bavaria pulled in a deep breath as he watched. There was a puff of stone dust where the charges had been planted in the foundation. Then, lines of charges went off, sending more dust into the sky.

Bavaria’s chest felt heavy as he watched. That palace had been the home of his royal family for so long. He had spent so many long hours in those halls. Sometimes he had slept in those rooms to be close to his monarchs when he needed to. It had been a kind of second home for centuries when he was ruled by kings.

Even as he reflected on the past, he felt so distant from it. It felt like lifetimes ago, when the world had been shining and golden. When war had still been waged by gentlemen who did not hurt civilians. When princes could still discuss peace settlements without bitterness and vengeance.

He could not help but miss those days, and the civility that they represented. It had been the best part of his life, when he could not imagine the violence the new century would bring.

But, this building had long since representing those days. It had been his palace once, but the corruption had taken root decades ago. The Nazis had taken it for their own purposes, and turned it into a place of horror.

His beautiful halls and rooms had been a prison. That was what he must remember now. Not the shining days of the monarchy. A much darker flag had flown over it more recently. The bravest young woman in Germany had died behind those walls, and he knew it. There was a memorial to her in the University, and he visited it from time to time.

It was such a strange haunted place to him. One part of his mind longed to remember it as the place where his royal family had lived, but another knew too well that no one could see it as anything now but the Gestapo prison.

The facade hadn’t been whole for two decades, since the Allies had rained bombs on Munich. He had watched then too, as parts of his past disappeared in smoke and fire. He had rebuilt most of the city palace, as a kind of empty shrine to his lost dynasty.

Ludwig II’s dream castle in the mountains was so beloved, as he had always dreamed it could be. People saw his fairy tale kingdom as he had always wanted, and it was as untouched by the war as ever.

Bavaria felt proud that the last project of his troubled king had finally gotten the renown that Ludwig had dreamed of. It would have been such a pity if the ugliness of war had destroyed that idyllic beauty. He could save that piece of the past.

But this building, in the heart of Munich, he could not. It had been twenty years since the end of the war, and the Wittelsbacher Palais had never lost its haunted feeling. The ruined crags of its facade felt like a testament to how it would never be the same.

There was a sound like the groan of a giant, and the building began to fall. It seemed to fold in on itself like a massive house of cards. The middle buckled and crumbled. The bricks slid one over another as they collapsed.

The whole structure collapsed into a pile of bricks within minutes.

There was a cloud of dust that radiated out as the rubble collapsed. Bavaria felt the air hit him as it finally settled. Just as the thought crossed his mind that this was really an end, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to see America standing next to him. He hadn’t expected anyone here, but certainly not America. When the war had just ended, he had resented the young man, who had come as an enemy and an occupying power.

But, over the decades, he had grown into a friend. He had done so much to help rebuild the country and the economy, and Bavaria was glad for his presence. There was something about his endless optimism and cheery outlook on the future that was infectious.

America believed that the world could be better, and Bavaria found it soothing. After all the darkness of the war, a ray of light was a rare thing.

However, this meeting was still unexpected. He said, “Alfred? What are you doing here?”  
The other man met his eyes and said, “They told me that this was happening today, and I thought you might need someone. How are you?”

His hand felt comforting where it was firmly on his shoulder. But, Bavaria didn’t feel like he needed the support as badly as America seemed to think. There was closure in this moment, in removing a monument to fascist terror from his landscape.

It was also a closing of the book on an older time in his life, one he couldn’t return to even if he desired it. There was no way now but forward.

He replied, “I am fine. You do not need to worry.”

He glanced away from America and back at the pile of bricks. There was a certain sad twinge in his chest, small and distant, but not absent. He added, “Do you mind if I say one last goodbye?”

America shook his head, and replied, “Do what you need to.”

Bavaria walked into the rubble, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Then his eyes found one of the lions from the front of palace. It was still completely intact. He laid his hand on the intricately carved mane and drew in one last breath of dusty air.

His finger traced one of the grooves in the stone. He was glad that this had at least survived. Not a Prussian eagle, but his own lion.

Then he said, talking to the lion as if it represented the whole of the past, “This is the way of the world, isn’t it? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

It was an old prayer, but it seemed to fit. It was time to let the ashes settle and be reborn again from the dust.


End file.
